"There shall be none, Highness," replied Âtma bending her brows over her task again. But the mention of Ghiâss Beg's name had brought back the thought of Siyah Yamin. For the only clue of any sort which the two days of search had given to Âtma was a possible connection between the Lord High Treasurer's House and that of the Syeds of Bârha.
They were distantly related by marriage. It was the faintest of clues but the thought of it filled Âtma's mind in an instant with a pressing desire.
Siyah Yamin! Siyah Yamin! She must be found! Time was passing! The very next morning the Audience would be held.
Siyah Yamin! Siyah Yamin----
"I see naught," she went on monotonously, forcing herself to words foreign to her thoughts--"I see, I see--what do I see? A crowd of banners waving. 'Tis a marriage procession! And lo! the bridegroom--Ohé! like the young Krishn for beauty--tall, slim, and fair."
"Thou liest," came Mihr-un-nissa's voice full of passion. "Thou dost not see it. Thou dost not----"
As she spoke she flung up the wrist she held so roughly that the ink drops spurted over Âtma's scarlet dress; then, with a sudden bound, she stood confronting her, a tornado in silver tissue. "Lo! I was looking too, and I saw no crowd, no banners, no bridegroom. All I saw was Siyah Yamin playing on the lute as she played last night when----"
She broke off with a sudden dismay, then laughing round defiantly to her mother went on recklessly:
"There! I have let that musk-rat go! but I did see her, Marmita, just as she sate last night when you and she----"
Bibi Azîzan's shriek drowned the rest.